


Various Captain America Ficlets

by glim



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, Grocery Shopping, M/M, Sickfic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-23
Updated: 2018-03-18
Packaged: 2019-02-19 06:44:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 6,158
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13118241
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/glim/pseuds/glim
Summary: A grab-bag of short Captain America ficlets, drabbles, and prompt/request fics. Characters/pairings will be noted at the start of the chapter, as well any content warnings.





	1. Sam/Steve, pumpkin spice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For azile_teacup, for the prompt “Please, enough with the pumpkin spice.”

Send Steve to the grocery store with a list in hand and he comes home with exactly what you asked for. Maybe a few other things find their way into the shopping cart (the toothpaste they’re almost out of, the soda that Sam likes best with pizza and that costs less at the grocery store than the pizza place), but pretty much, Sam can count on Steve bringing home what they put on the week’s list.

 _Take_ Steve to the grocery store, and it turns into some odd combination of mission, excursion, and date. Depending on Sam’s mood, it can be endearing, annoying, or both.

Tonight, it doesn’t really matter. Sam’s too fucking tired to go to the grocery store by himself. They’ve both been away from home for over a week on separate missions; Sam’s home two days later than expected, and Steve’s only been home for a couple hours. Since his afternoon debrief, Sam’s showered, picked up the cat from their cat sitter, and woke Steve up from the nap he’d accidentally taken on the sofa. That feels like enough accomplishment for the evening, but they really should go to the store.

The grocery situation wasn’t great before they left; now it’s downright dire.

“Get up, we need to go buy food.” Sam nudges his shoulder against Steve and gets a sleepy, confused frown in reply. “Grocery store. All we have left to eat is spoiled milk and a can of beans.”

“Rice?” Steve asks, and rubs his eyes. When Sam shakes his head, he gives himself a shake and sits up on the sofa. The cat mews her protest and tries to resettle in Sam’s lap. “Okay. What do we need? Aside from rice.”

“Everything. Seriously. Nah, you’re fine,” Sam adds when Steve looks down at his clothes with an uncertain frown. “It’s gonna be you, and me, and the random college kids who party on Thursday night and are still recovering today.”

Steve gives his tee shirt and running pants another look and shrugs. “You’re dressed.”

“Yeah, my oldest jeans and a shirt you usually sleep in. I’m not even sure that counts.”

Steve yawns and stretches, rubs his eyes again, then wraps himself up around Sam, sleep warm and affectionate. He presses his face into Sam’s shoulder and says something about being happy to be home and not hungry. Button approves that, and curls herself further into Sam’s lap until he starts petting her. 

“I hate when both of you do that,” Sam murmurs, but lets himself sink into the warm, protective hug for a few more minutes. They can last a few more minutes without groceries.

Somehow, Sam extricates himself from Steve and the cat, and tosses a hoodie and the car keys into Steve’s lap after pulling on his shoes.

“C'mon, husband, you’re driving.”

*

“Should we split up?” Steve peers down at the list Sam made on his phone during the drive to the grocery store, then shakes his head. “We’ll get done faster, but… we’ll have to split up,” Steve says, and his voice gets that weird, hollow sort of sound it sometimes does before or after hard missions.

Sam rests a hand at the base of Steve’s spine and feels his own heart catch a little. They’re usually good at this, the being apart thing, but it’s been too long and they’re both too exhausted.

“We can walk around together. I know you love your grocery store dates.”

Steve gives Sam a smile this time and turns to press a kiss to his shoulder. “Yeah, I do. Okay, we’ll start with produce. What’s on special?”

Like Sam predicted, the grocery store past nine o'clock on a Friday night is pretty empty. College kids stocking up on stuff, a few people wandering the aisles, and a few other couples comparing prices on items from their lists. Sam decides on stew to cook for the weekend, because it’s what he really feels like having, it’s appropriately autumnal, and they’ll have leftovers for a few days.

Steve alternates between pushing the cart, cuddling himself in behind Sam while they look at the shelves, and flicking through the store’s app on Sam’s phone looking for coupons and specials. That’s what Sam likes about the grocery store dates, though, and how going on a Friday night means getting Steve’s arms around him when they’re in an otherwise empty aisle.

“You have this on your own phone, too, you know.”

“What? Oh, yeah. But I don’t have my phone.”

“This is how I end up getting texts from Stark, you know that, right?” Sam leans in to see what Steve’s added to their list, and then shakes his head when he sees it’s about five different kinds of cereal. “We don’t eat that much cereal. Ever.”

“Just in case. We don’t need to buy them all.”

Sam slips his hand into the pocket of Steve’s hoodie and walks him back to the cart, and then to the cereal aisle. They half-shuffle through the Cheerios and mini-wheats, all to the sound of 80s easy listening, and settle on the Rice Krispies and Corn Flakes they’ll both eat. When they reach the end of the aisle, Steve pauses at the end cap and gives a small, soft gasp of surprise.

“No.”

“Oh, baby, c'mon, one box.”

“No. You get your frothy coffee beverages and that’s enough. Maybe a muffin,” he adds, and tries to tug Steve along away from the display. “We don’t need five different kinds of pumpkin spice flavored cereal. It takes us a month to get through one box of normal, edible cereal.”

Steve pouts, but it’s the I haven’t slept in three days and I’m not really sad just tired sort of pout, and heaves a sigh. He grabs the granola bars, though, and smiles a little when Sam doesn’t stop him.

“They’re on special and you have a coupon.”

“You’re going to eat them all,” Sam says, but yeah, alright, that little smile on Steve’s face, the kind that touches his eyes and makes him lean in to nuzzle another kiss against Sam’s shoulder, that’s probably worth a box of pumpkin spice granola bars.


	2. Sam/Steve, sunrise

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam/Steve; Steve goes for a run before sunrise in D.C.

The second time he lived in New York, Steve would wake up as early as he could, almost desperate to beat the sunrise. Before the light and noise of the morning rush began, the city was still his city. He could recognize it in five-second snatches before daylight, and clung to the memories with which he could fill five seconds.

Washington D.C. doesn’t afford him the same the same luxury. To Steve, D.C. will always be a modern city, the brightness of the twenty-first century jostling against the shadows cast by those previous.

He still gets up before sunrise, leaves the house while the sky is dark and the air chilly, and fills his lungs with the scent of the morning. Maybe this is the true luxury–the clean morning air, the starkness of tree branches and buildings against the lightening sky, the novelty of his own life despite the hum of familiarity growing along its edges.

*

Because it’s Thursday, Steve stops for bagels and juice on the way home from his run. The deli closest to home is just opening, ready for the early morning commuter traffic. Fresh bread, hot coffee, the morning newspapers…

For a moment that’s not quite five seconds long, Steve feels that well-worn familiarity again, his old life slipping in along next to the new. He tries to hold onto it, but the feeling eludes him as soon as he recognizes it.

He picks up a paper with his bagels and juice, for old times’ sake, and walks home with the late summer sun warming his shoulders and neck.

*

The house is quiet when he gets home, but the scent of freshly brewed coffee drifts from the kitchen. Another memory flickers in Steve’s mind, warm and soft and bright, and he thinks, maybe, he could dwell in those five-seconds forever given the chance.

He drops his paper, the juice, and bagels off on the table, and kicks off his sneakers before padding back to the bedroom.

“I brought you breakfast,” he says, touching the back of Sam’s neck. “Bagels and juice.” His fingers trace the soft skin at the nape of Sam’s neck, and Steve leans in just close enough to press a kiss there.

“I’m not sure that makes up for you leaving bed so early, but okay, I can do bagels and juice this morning.” Sam turns to look at Steve, then tips his head slightly to the side and smiles when Steve leans in to kiss him on the lips. He’s half-dressed, ironing a shirt for work, and when he smiles, that warm, bright flicker of memory touches Steve’s heart again.

“I’m going to go grab a shower, and I’ll give you a ride to work this morning.”

“I can definitely do that. Hey,” Sam touches Steve on the arm before he goes, then on the the cheek. “You got a little too much sun this morning. Did you have a good run?”

Steve leans into the touch, and the luxury, the ever-newness of it. “Yeah, I did.”


	3. Sam/Steve, cuddling

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam/Steve & a small cat, for azile_teacup, for the prompt "familiar cuddles."

Steve drops his keys into the bowl, drops his duffel bag down next to the bookshelf, and thinks, probably, he should just drop himself down onto the sofa and fall asleep for the next twelve hours.

Within thirty seconds, however, the sound of eager paws race across the carpet and there’s a plaintive little mew as tiny claws dig into the leg of his jeans. He waits a couple seconds to see if the cat’s learned how to climb up his leg yet, then takes pity on her and scoops her up into his arms.

“Hey, baby, hey, little Button… Did you miss me? I missed you so much.”

The ball of striped brown and grey fur in his arms gives a pleased mew this time and Button pushes her face against Steve’s hand until he strokes her ears.

“Where’s your Sammy? Is he home? He’s home, I can tell,” Steve adds, nodding at the shoes on the rug by the door, “But is he awake? Is he in the bedroom? Should we go look?” Steve smiles when Button rubs her face against his face and makes another little happy sound as he carries her through the apartment. “Let’s go find him…”

“Oh my _God_ …” An exasperated sigh tells Steve exactly where his husband is.

“What?” Steve carries Button with him to the still-steam filled bathroom and comes to stand behind Sam. “I missed you, too.”

“That cat’s gonna kill you in your sleep one day if you keep talking to her like that.” Sam glances at Steve in the mirror as he finishes shaving. He has a towel around his waist and there are drops of water still clinging to his skin; he looks warm and relaxed, a little tired.

“Like what?”

“Like…” Sam sighs again when Steve nuzzles his face against the cat’s face and shakes his head, smiling now. “Did you just get off duty?”

“Sort of? Cleaned up at work and did my debrief paperwork there. How long have you been home? Not long?”

“About an hour? Maybe?” Sam looks at Steve’s reflection in the mirror again, frowning when he and Button hover over his shoulder. “What?”

“Nothing,” Steve says and leans in a little closer. Here, he can feel the warmth of Sam’s skin, smell the scent of his soap, hear the soft inhale and exhale of his breathing. “I really did miss you…”

Sam splashes water on his face and towels it dry, then leans into the arm that Steve slides around his waist. When Steve leans in closer to kiss Sam on the shoulder, Button gives an indignant squeak, then slips out of Steve’s other arm to do her customary licking of the shower water from Sam’s ankles.

“She likes me best,” Sam says, but turns to kiss Steve a couple times.

“Yeah, she has good taste.” Steve has both arms around Sam now, protective and close, and can press his face into the back of Sam’s neck. “I like you best, too.”


	4. Sam/Steve, bakery au

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam/Steve, 3 sentence au prompt: bakery au; for flammablehat.

Steve wants to say it’s the tiny, frosted cakes and the fancy sandwiches that are his downfall, but, really, the tiny cakes and fancy sandwiches are secondary pleasures compared to the way Sam smiles at him when he hands Steve his lunch order at the bakery cafe.

And, yes, he’s had an amazing sandwich for lunch today (just like he does every Tuesday and Thursday afternoon), and he’s pretty sure there’s frosting on his necktie, but it’s the hands at his hips and the warm lips that brush against his own that ruin him. 

“Sam,” he says, low and beneath his breath, because he can, because here, after the lunch rush is gone, it’s just the two of them, and because it makes Sam smile in a way Steve's never seen before over three months’ worth of lunches.


	5. Steve/Bucky, sweets shop au

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve/Bucky, 3 sentence au prompt: sweets shop

November means the shop smells like nutmeg and chocolate, rich espresso, and vanilla, always the same, sweet vanilla that Steve can remember as far back as his memories go: quiet, weekend mornings playing in the back of the shop; warm vanilla milk and sandwiches cut into triangles; book reports and science tests and essays written in the small corner table of the cafe area.

Mid-morning means the shop is empty, quiet music playing in the background as Bucky leans over the counter, reading the paper, hair falling into his face; he looks up at the sound of the bell, then looks up again when he sees Steve.

“You’re home early,” he says, and then, “come here, you idiot, I was supposed to get you at the airport,” and then maybe Steve’s name, soft and murmured as he pulls Steve by his Army uniform lapels into a kiss that’s every warm thing Steve can remember, vanilla and nutmeg, all the winter afternoons he spent falling in love with his best friend.


	6. Steve/Bucky, TFA, Bucky h/c

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve/Bucky, set during _The First Avenger_ , some Bucky sickfic & hurt/comfort and Steve being, well, _Steve_.

Bucky’s sitting on the edge of the infirmary bed when Steve walks in. He’s half-dressed, trousers still on, dog tags against his bare chest, hair rumpled. When he sees Steve, a faint smile touches his lips.

“Hey… aren’t you supposed to be busy?”

Steve shrugs. “Nobody’s going to miss me for a couple hours.” He can tell Bucky’s going to say something, so he touches the side of Bucky’s face, strokes his fingers over the rise of Bucky’s cheekbone.

He looks too pale. Way too pale, and way too tired, hollow and sick, and something inside Steve twists painful and sad. It’s not fair that he should be standing here, whole and healthy, when Bucky’s this exhausted, when he has a cough that still rattles his chest and makes his voice scrape raw against his throat.

“Okay,” Bucky says, and then gives Steve another small smile. “You gonna sit with me or what, then? Just stand there looking sad?”

Steve gives Bucky a little shove against the side of his face, then drops down onto the bed next to him. He reaches up this time to run his fingers through Bucky’s hair, and lets out the low, deep sigh of relief when the look in Bucky’s eyes goes soft and familiar, like they’re not in a chilly, army base infirmary, with only a curtain for privacy. He rests his head on Steve’s shoulder, and a little shudder goes through him, and Steve doesn’t have to ask if he’s cold or scared or what.

It doesn’t matter, though, because even if it’s all of those, he’s here now, he’s with Steve, and Steve’s going to make sure the doctors take a really good look at Bucky.

“They’re keeping you here tonight? Did they give you anything? I’m gonna get you a cup of tea, or anything hot, so you have something in your stomach, okay? I know you ate,” he adds, because he can feel Bucky’s lips starting to form the words against his shoulder. “ _Did_ they give you anything, Buck?”

When Bucky rubs his face against Steve, and then when he turns aside to cough against his fist, and then turns back to rest his head against Steve all over again… right, _that’s_ when Steve feels a rush of gratitude for his new body. It may not feel quite right yet, and there are days and nights where it feels like he’s sleepwalking through somebody else’s life, but here, with Bucky pressed in close and safe to him, he feels like himself again. He feels like there are at least a couple new ways he can take care of his guy now.

“Aspirin,” Bucky finally says. “Might get some sulfa tablets for the cough, though they think the pneumonia’s mostly gone…”

“ _Might_. They _might_ give you–” Steve makes a move to stand back up, then settles again when Bucky’s arm tightens around his waist. “They didn’t see– they don’t know–”

“Stevie, don’t… Just, yeah, just sit here for a while, okay? I haven’t seen you in so long…” Bucky’s arm tightens up around Steve’s waist once more, and he looks up at Steve with a smile that’s still too wan and exhausted, but it’s genuine, it’s still Bucky’s old smile.

“Okay. But I’m going to say something when the doctors come by. I need–-” The words drop off, because no, no, he’s not going to stay things like that here, he’s going to save them up for when he really has Bucky to himself. “I need you good and healthy, if you going out on the battlefield with me. And you’re an officer, they have to treat you like one.”

Bucky groans at that. “Yeah, yeah, you pull rank, Cap. Maybe get me some whiskey or some cigarettes, yeah?”

“Yeah,” Steve replies. “Yeah, I’ll do that for you, Buck.”

Outside, there is a war that’s tearing the world up by its roots, and Steve knows he’s going to see the war through until the end, until he meets whatever end is meant for him. But now, inside, tonight, he is here, and Bucky is here, and beyond the harsh light and antiseptic smell, there is the meter of their breathing and their heartbeat.


	7. Steve/Bucky, academic/SHIELD agent au

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve/Bucky, au where skinny!Steve is a SHIELD agent and Bucky a professor. (Bucky sickfic)

Steve checks his phone as soon as he gets back to HQ, sends Bucky a few quick texts to let his boyfriend know he's back, and then starts stripping himself out of his tac gear. Gloves first, then the modified earpiece, which he puts into its case carefully, then his vest and boots and weapons holster. He hears footsteps behind him, and smiles to see Sam from the corner of his eye. 

"Hey. Good job out there." Steve smiles when Sam stops in front of his own locker. "You took a few hits, though." 

"Fuck, you're telling me. Does our health plan include massage therapy?" Sam stretches his shoulders, then rolls them with a long sigh. 

"It definitely should. You staying tonight?" 

Sam shakes his head. "Riley's on leave, so I'm heading home as soon as I smell good and look a little better. Might take him out, since we got back before dinner time. You?"

"Yeah, same. Well, I don't think we're going out. Bucky has a seminar tonight, so I'm betting on take out." 

"Still good," Sam says, and nods when Steve makes a sound of agreement. 

It's definitely going to be take out. Steve's too tired and keyed up to think about cooking at the moment, and if he feels bad, Bucky has to feel worse. He woke up with Steve when the call from SHEILD came in, and even though Steve's supposed to be off mission duty for a few days, he and his mission partner were both called in as active agents for the emergency of the day. 

So, right, Steve's been up since 4am, which means Bucky's also been awake that long, but Bucky woke up coughing and congested, and Steve's pretty sure he didn't get back to sleep after Steve left. 

Steve showers quickly, exchanges his SHEILD field agent uniform for his civvie clothes, and his contacts for glasses. Once he's said goodbye to Sam, and is on his way to the university, he pulls out his phone. 

Three texts from Bucky, one from Peggy asking about the mission, and one from Sam wishing him a good weekend. He texts Sam first, then Peggy, promising to call her tonight, and then calls Bucky. 

"Do you have enough voice to answer the phone?" Steve asks, as soon as Bucky picks up. 

"Sure, well... maybe just enough. You come back in once piece?" 

"Pretty much. Stark's going to have to take a look at my bike, though." 

Bucky groans the groan that usually means he's going to forbid Steve from ever riding a motorcycle again. Instead, this time, he coughs roughly, and then clears his throat. "How's Sammy?"

"Also in one piece. What about you?" 

"I'm, um..." Bucky coughs again, and then Steve can hear him hold the phone against his chest as he turns aside and sneezes. There's a few seconds of quiet, then the sound of the phone brushing against Bucky's shirt. "I'm okay. Getting through my afternoon meetings and office hours, anyway."

"What do you want me to pick up for you on my way to campus? Tea? What else?" Steve asks before Bucky can answer. "Tissues? Cough drops? I know the kind you like..." 

"Steven, you're so annoying. Just... yeah, okay," he adds, in a smaller voice, and Steve knows he's starting to feel worn down. "You can come sit in my office while I go teach." 

"That's pretty much the plan for the afternoon. Okay, I'm going into the subway since my bike's a mess, but I'll see you soon." 

"Alright, Stevie. Glad you're back." 

"Me, too, babe." 

Steve pockets his phone, and takes the subway all the way to NYU. The stop is far away enough from Bucky's office that Steve gets a chance to walk off some of the leftover adrenaline from his work. It's a chilly fall day, sunny but with a sharp breeze, and Steve's glad for the light jacket he has on with his jeans and sweater.

He stops for tissues and cough drops at a convenience store, then for tea and juice at the student center. By the time he gets to Bucky's office, he's a little calmer, and a lot more tired, than he was back at HQ. 

Bucky's sitting at his desk, hair pulled back from his face, wearing a red plaid flannel shirt over a grey tee shirt. Jeans, too, and boots. Not that he dresses up for work too often, but you can definitely tell he's feeling tired and sick today. 

"Here," Steve murmurs and puts the tea down on Bucky's desk. He touches the side of Bucky's face, then leans down to brush a kiss over his lips. "How my best guy?" 

"Kinda sick," Bucky says, then tries to evade the next kiss. He ends up muffling a cough into a closed fist, then sighs when Steve rubs his shoulder. "It sounds worse than it is..." 

"Well, it sounds pretty bad. Though, I'm guessing some sleep and a lot of tea and soup will make a difference. Drink that," he adds, nodding at the cup of tea. "Maybe breathe the steam first..." 

Bucky gives another sigh, though this one just sounds tired and relieved when Steve starts rubbing his shoulders. He holds his cup of tea in both hands, breathing in the steam until he starts sniffling, and then leans away from Steve to blow his nose. 

"Sorry..." 

"Yeah, you can't help it. It's okay. I got you tissues and stuff." Steve points at the bag from the CVS on Bucky's desk. When Bucky coughs and sniffles again, he rubs his thumbs into the base of Bucky's neck, trying to ease up the tension there. "Take an Advil before your seminar class, okay?" 

"Annoying," Bucky says. 

"Just for you, baby." Steve leans down and presses a kiss to the top of Bucky's head, and rests his cheek against his hair. "How long before class starts?" 

"... forty-five minutes?" Bucky leans forward to check the time on his watch. "Yeah, about that." 

"Okay, good." Steve kisses Bucky's hair again, then shifts to pull one of the extra chairs in next to Bucky's. "I'm going to drink my tea, then you tell me what you need so I can help you get ready for class."


	8. Steve/Bucky, Target trip

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> skinny!Steve/Bucky (background Sam/Steve/Bucky), Bucky drags Steve to get his allergy shots, then to Target

Bucky checks his phone, realizes only five more minutes have passed, and goes back to flipping through yet another magazine. So far, he's read about how to make any number of pumpkin spice desserts, how to decorate his house for the perfect fall gathering, and what might possibly be the best way to get his abs to look better. 

Well, okay, no, his abs are fine, but he'll probably take a picture of that muffin recipe in magazine #2. What he should've done was bring a book to the doctor's office, but usually when he drags Steve in to get his allergy shots, there's nobody here. 

They're off schedule this month, though, because the ragweed's been fucking killing Steve's asthma, so they're here two weeks early, and Bucky's reading about pumpkin spice muffins while Steve coughs at somebody else for a change. 

(They do look like good muffins, though. Seriously. Bucky will make them for breakfast this weekend. That'll be good. Muffins and hot coffee, he'll bring them up to Sam before he wakes up.) 

When Steve finally does emerge, he's rubbing his arm and looking pissed at the world. He does smile at the nurses, though, and finishes up his paperwork really polite and kind, like always. He even gives Bucky a quick smile, and doesn't shrug away the arm Bucky puts around his shoulders as they walk out to the car. 

"We gotta go to Target." 

Steve rolls his eyes, but gives Bucky a quick, grateful hug when he opens the car door for Steve. 

"I feel gross." Steve curls into his seat after clipping the seat belt. 

"Oh. D'you need to rest or--" 

"Not that kind of gross. Just... Ugh." He makes a vague motion toward his glasses and hearing aid and the spot where he probably just got his shots. "Gross." 

Bucky sighs and touches Steve on the shoulder so he looks at Bucky instead of just scowling at the world. Okay, he looks exhausted, but not horrible or anything. He's probably feeling down, though, and Bucky won't make him stay any longer in the store than they have to. Maybe they can grab lunch on the way home, too. 

"C'mon, I look like a fucking suburban mom and you look like you just got outta the TB ward. We're going to Target to buy shit for the house before Sam kills us for not cleaning the bathrooms." 

Steve sighs, but then laughs, and he only coughs a little on the drive to the store. He mopes a bit in the parking lot, but eventually agrees to push the cart and follow Bucky around the Target. 

And, you know, okay, even though Steve laughed, Bucky really does look like a suburban mom this morning. He's in the half-yoga pants, half-sweatpants sort of things he usually wears to therapy, but were the only clean pants at the top of the laundry this morning. He's also got on one of Sam's old Air Force sweatshirts, and his hair up in a messy bun now that it's way longer than he's used to it being. He even fucking shaved this morning, after finally getting sick of Sam complaining about the stubble when they cuddled after dinner during _Jeopardy!_ , so there's that, too. It's nice, though, it feels nice to go out in the soft, warm clothes, and to have Steve reach over and stroke the tendrils of hair at the nape of his neck when he reaches down to get the laundry soap on their shopping list. 

"What?" He says, when he looks over at Steve, and Steve's got this expression on his face. Blue eyes and parted lips, all soft like, in the middle of the Target. 

Steve shrugs again. "You look really pretty today, that's all. That's what you look like." 

"I--oh. Stevie," Bucky says, and lets himself wallow in that for a little while, warm and happy and content to be walking around the store at ten in the morning with Steve. He rests a hand at the small of Steve's back to direct him toward the bath linens. "Go pick out towels and stuff for the upstairs bathroom," he murmurs, then fixes the back of the collar on Steve's flannel shirt.


	9. Sam/Steve/Bucky, domesticity

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam/Steve/Bucky; Steve looks after his guys.

Steve's leaning over the stove when Sam gets home, a vaguely confused look on his face. When he sees Sam, however, the look melts into a smile, and he leans away from the stove to put his arms around Sam's waist. 

"How was work?" Steve nuzzles against Sam's ear, warm and affectionate, and hugs Sam more tightly when he sighs. 

"No, it was fine. Busy, though. The change in seasons seems to be tough for a lot of people." Sam leans into the hug and basks in how warm and strong Steve feels, how easily affectionate he can be sometimes. "You doing dinner?" 

"What? Oh, no..." Steve nuzzles against him again, then pulls away to glance back at the oven. "Well, sort of. I chopped everything and grated the cheese, but Bucky put the lasagna together. Hey," he adds when Sam gives a sigh of relief. "I can cook."

"You can do breakfast, I'll give you that. Good coffee and eggs and pancakes. Steve," Sam says when Steve keeps glancing back at the stove or the timer or something. "I think a lasagna can manage without you worrying over it." 

"I'm not... I'm just... I want it to be nice?" 

"Yeah, so do the rest of us who'll be eating it." Sam brushes a kiss against Steve's mouth when a frown tugs at the corner. "It's not the lasagna?" 

Steve hesitates, then hugs Sam again, all warm and tight and protective. Sam sinks into the feeling for about a minute, then rubs Steve's back when he presses his face to Sam's shoulder. "Even I know you won't ruin lasagna, but I'll check on it after I change, okay?" 

"Okay... I'm just going to check on Bucky. I think he's feeling low, and I need to go lay on top of him to help him feel better." 

"Okay, baby..." Sam rubs Steve's back again, then hugs him warm and tight before he leans away. "Wait... _what_?" 

Sam lets him go, though, and peers into the oven. The baking dish is covered and looks fine, so he sets a timer for forty-five minutes, goes into the bedroom he shares with Steve, and gets himself out of his work clothes. 

He sits on the bed for a while in just a tee shirt and boxers, still warm from the embrace Steve had held him in for those few minutes, and starts to let go of the stress from the work day. It's good to have Steve here when he comes home, even when he's post-mission exhausted or hurt, and it's even better when he's being sweet and attentive like this. 

Sam gives Steve about five more minutes, then pulls on a pair of sweats and pads down to the room Bucky has for his own. 

And, right, just like he said, Steve's sprawled out on top of Bucky, who looks like he was trying to read on the bed. He's got Steve's head on his shoulder, and one hand in Steve's hair as he holds the book with the other. 

"Hey, man." Sam asks when Bucky looks up at him. "I didn't think he actually did that to you." 

Bucky shrugs, then shakes his head at Steve. Who is now stroking his chest through the tee shirt Bucky has on and shifting a little closer to Bucky. "Yeah, bad habit I let him get into when he was a hundred pound asthmatic." 

When Bucky tips his head to the side and nods toward the other side of the bed, Sam feels warmth curl inside his chest. He settles down on the bed, peers over Bucky's shoulder to see what he's reading, then swings his legs up onto the bed to sit quietly with the two of them. 

Steve shifts again, this time so he can brush his toes over Sam's foot. "Did you check on dinner?" 

"Yeah. It's fine. Everything's fine," Sam says, and yeah, it kind of is.


	10. Steve/Bucky, gardens

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve/Bucky, 3 sentence fic prompt: gardens (same timeline as [Victory Garden](https://archiveofourown.org/works/11249313))

Bucky places the community garden pamphlet down next to Steve's mug and runs his hand through Steve's still bed-mussed hair as he pours himself a cup of coffee; they still have toast and black coffee for breakfast, still put the percolator on the stove and pull apart the newspaper while they wait for the coffee to finish. 

When Bucky comes back to the table, Steve tugs him down into his lap and kisses the back of his neck, warm and soft, as fond as Bucky can remember seventy years back, and murmurs a quiet "yes" and then "we'll go Saturday morning, I'll get seeds for us, just like before" against Bucky's skin. 

Some things, Bucky knows, are never going to be the same, but some things, he also knows, are immutable: the blue of Steve's eyes when he wakes up in the morning, the feel of Bucky's hand around the curve of Steve's hip as they walk together, the delicate, persistent force of the green world, growing up and around them., the scent of sunshine, dirt, and rain.


	11. Steve/Bucky, catsitter au

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve/Bucky, 3 sentence au prompt: catsitter

Steve's not sure what he expects when he agrees to take care of his neighbor's cat, but it's certainly not this: a neatly arranged folder of meticulous Excel spreadsheets detailing feeding, sleeping, and playing schedules; there's even a PowerPoint presentation that Steve eyes warily as he follows James from the living room to the bedroom. 

"Our apartments have the same floor plan," Steve points out, glancing down at the map in the folder, then at the strong, slightly tense line of James's shoulders as he kneels down next to the cat bed next to his own bed, "I only live four doors down from you... And you'll only be gone for the weekend."

James looks up at Steve with a little frown of concern on his face, then cuddles the small ball of sleepy, grey fur against his shoulder; when he nuzzles against the cat's ears, and then stands and brings her to meet Steve, a soft smile on his face as Steve leans in closer to both of them, Steve feels his heart squeeze in a sudden, new way.


	12. Sam/Steve, teachers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam/Steve, 3 sentence AU prompt: teachers.

Steve rolls his sleeves up as he walks out of his classroom, checks his watch, and then locks the art room door; he could text Sam, he knows that, but the walk through the near empty high school building and across the quiet courtyard outside is nice, even before seven in the morning during the middle of winter. 

The walk is well worth it when he gets to Sam's classroom, where he can put his arms around his boyfriend, and feels the press of Sam's face into his neck as he murmurs "you smell like the outside" against Steve's skin. 

He holds Sam, safe and close and _warm_ , for another minute, draws away a little to kiss him good morning, and then, after another minute, to doodle on the whiteboard while Sam gets his classroom ready for his first period AP class.


	13. Sam/Steve, space + cuddles

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam/Steve, 3 sentence AU prompt: cuddles, in the same space au as [Noctilucent](https://archiveofourown.org/works/11289978).

Honestly, the only time Steve sits up in the cockpit are when either Sam or Bucky spend too much time up there and he needs to try and drag one of them off to sleep for a couple hours, or if he's charting a flight and he needs to see the stars unfold around him in order for the maps and routes to make any sense in his mind. 

Tonight, he's sitting up there by himself, and maybe he's just a little too cold and exhausted to get himself up out of the pilot's chair, the one Bucky usually sits in, or maybe he just wants to think about Bucky sitting here, about Sam sliding his hand over Bucky's and holding it a couple seconds too long, or about Nat, leaning over Sam's shoulder, so that her hair brushes his cheek as she talks to him. 

Sam finds him, though, and shakes his head at Steve when Steve gives him a sleepy shrug; he drops into Steve's lap and his body is heavy, warm and reassuring, and when he refuses to get up, Steve just buries his face in Sam's shoulder and holds him tighter as the silence of space slips around them.


End file.
